The personal and political in Navtej Singh’s writing

Navtej Singh (1925–1981) was born a century ago in Sialkot and died of cancer at the age of 56. Despite his premature departure, his contribution to Punjabi literature remains substantial — both as a storyteller and as co-editor/editor of the Preet Lari magazine. Many of us writing in Punjabi today belong to the generation for whom, as we began to read and learn, Navtej Singh stood among the luminaries of Punjabi storytelling.

The eldest child of Gurbakhsh Singh, the doyen of modern Punjabi prose and founder-editor of Preet Lari, Navtej inherited a rich literary legacy. He was just eight when his father began publishing Preet Lari from Naushera, and by the time he was 15, the literary commune city of Preet Nagar, established by his father’s efforts, had come into being — a place still celebrated as a Mecca for Punjabi writers. This environment, combined with his father’s enduring influence, quickly refined Navtej Singh’s literary talents.

For higher studies, he enrolled at the renowned Forman Christian College in Lahore — a few years before Independence and Partition. Lahore, at that time, was the cultural and political heart of undivided Punjab. During his college years, he connected with leaders of Lahore’s student union, many of whom espoused leftist ideologies. These friendships played a major role in shaping his worldview.

At the Master’s level, he chose psychology, a discipline that sharpened his interest in the human mind and behaviour. Three currents thus converged in his development: the idealistic, aesthetically alive atmosphere of Preet Nagar; the radical, left-leaning activism of Lahore’s student politics; and a formal grounding in psychology. These strands are clearly visible in his fiction, which combines political sharpness with a human-centred, nuanced understanding of character.

His stories repeatedly expose social discrimination and injustice while probing the inner lives of his protagonists rather than reducing them to ideological types. Navtej Singh began literary work very young. Not yet 20, he took charge of Baal Suneha, a children’s magazine launched by Preet Lari, which later grew into Baal Sandesh. He edited it for many years before becoming co-editor of Preet Lari alongside Gurbakhsh Singh, eventually serving as its editor until his death.

During those years, he and his friend Jagjit Singh Anand jointly translated two important works: Wanda Wasilewska’s novel ‘Satrangi Peengh’ (‘Rainbow’) and Julius Fucik’s prison diary, ‘Phansi De Takhtay Ton’ (‘Notes From the Gallows’). Later, Navtej independently translated selected classics by Russian authors Anton Chekhov and Maxim Gorky into Punjabi.

His first and last collections — ‘Des Vapasi’ (‘Homecoming’, 1955) and ‘Bhaian Bajh’ (‘Without Brothers’, 1974) — frame his work within the trauma of Partition and its human cost. Partition, displacement and the lingering ache of separation form a recurring thread in these books, especially in his depiction of lost companions and fractured families. Alongside Partition, friendship occupies a central place in his imagination; few Punjabi writers have given it such prominence. He even wrote a separate volume, ‘Dosti De Pandh’ (‘Paths of Friendship’), that foregrounds friendship as a value equal, if not superior, to romantic love in depth and purity.

Although ‘Des Vapasi’ was published in 1955, its stories date as far back as 1943. These early works reveal both his budding narrative art and the wide horizons of his craft. The eponymous story starts in Malaya (now Malaysia) and ends in India; the collection also contains ‘Anjamme Bal De Naa’ (‘To the Unborn Child’), which unfolds in Yugoslavia. These stories signal his profound political consciousness and expansive worldview.

Navtej Singh’s next book, ‘Navin Rutt’ (‘New Season’), published in 1959, highlights his ability to awaken political consciousness in readers. Many stories are steeped in sharp social and political awareness, reflecting the turbulent post-Independence years. In his foreword to ‘Navin Rutt’, Navtej directly addressed the political charge of these stories, arguing that literature must confront the problems of its time and portray them with depth and transformative power rather than as superficial reportage. He acknowledged that he might not have fully succeeded but insisted on the seriousness of his attempt. Notably, the story ‘Manukh De Pio’ (‘Father of Man’) won first prize in the world literature contest at the Fourth International Youth Festival in Bucharest, Romania, in 1953. By the time ‘Navin Rutt’ was published in Punjabi, a collection of eight Navtej Singh stories had already been published in Chinese, and 16 in Romanian; moreover, his work was translated into Russian, Slovak, Polish, and featured in anthologies of Indian stories. Until then — and perhaps even now — no Punjabi short story writer had gained such international acknowledgment.

His third collection, ‘Basmati Di Mehak’ (‘The Fragrance of Basmati’, 1960), includes 12 stories that move more explicitly into love and misalliance, portraying mismatched marriages and the pairing of opposites while still attentive to social fault lines. The fourth, ‘Chanan De Beej’ (‘Seeds of Light’, 1963), contains 23 stories, among them the acclaimed ‘Dastar… Jhoola… Muskurahat’ (‘A Turban… A Swing… A Smile’), an exemplary tale showcasing his deep social awareness and talent for conveying big ideas through subtle details. Across five volumes, he wrote 89 stories in all.

Navtej Singh was among the few Punjabi writers deeply grounded in the idiom of Punjabi village life, yet also committed to enriching it through creative innovation. His stories avoid English words — so common in much of today’s lazy Punjabi writing — instead favouring authentic expressions and inventive vocabulary rooted in Punjabi.

The imprint of his training in psychology is visible throughout his work. Even as a member of the Communist Party of India in an era of sharp class conflict, he resisted simple class binaries in his fiction. His characters, including those from non-working class backgrounds, are rendered as complex individuals whose motives and conflicts are examined from multiple angles. His multidimensional examination of character psychology marks him as a true humanist.

Most of his stories are short — sometimes only three or four pages — but they rarely feel thin. ‘Maan De Dil Vich Ellora Da Mandir’ (‘Ellora Temple in Mother’s Heart’), for instance, compresses a rich social and emotional world into a small space. He was unafraid to experiment with style, balancing multiple approaches within single stories as evidence of his unique skill. He experimented with diverse narrative modes: a folktale framework in ‘Sab Ton Vadda Khazana’ (‘The Greatest Treasure’), near-surreal atmospherics in ‘Jallianwala Jaag Pia’ (‘Jallianwala Rises), and a blend of political realism and dreamlike sequences in ‘Manukh Ate Usda Jhanda’ (‘The Man and His Flag’). Balancing such variations within brief narratives demonstrates his technical mastery.

Yet his contribution has not always received the prominence it deserves in standard histories of Punjabi literature, and younger readers today may not fully recognise the breadth of his achievement. For those who care about the Punjabi short story, Navtej Singh remains a writer to rediscover and reread with renewed attention.

— Sukirat Singh Anand, Navtej Singh’s nephew, publishes under the name Sukirat